Lie in the bed she made
by PsychoDramaQueen
Summary: A certain blonde haired, head nurse sits back and reminisces about good times past and a certain someone. A little melancholy, but it's my first go, so please give it a shot. No flames thanks. Rated M, just to be safe.


_Any characters of MASH are not mine, they're Fox's sadly. If they were mine a certain head nurse and head doctor would long ago have involved themselves in several illicit trysts. _

She sat in her living room, her hands poised over the small dress, needle in hand and a knitting needle slipped behind her ear. It had been six months, six long months. She heard the rain pounding on the window outside, cascading down the glass. She watched as the water dripped from the hole in the roof into the metal pot sitting in the centre of the almost barren room. Sighing she shook herself out of the reverie that had been holding her all evening. Flicking her silver-gold hair out of her eyes, she busied herself with the infant clothing in her hands, darning a small hole in the fabric. She had been berating herself endlessly, this cold and bare room, with the peeling paint and adult furniture, was no place to raise a child. But this what she had chosen; she had made her bed and now she had to lie in it. Leaning back in the chair she felt the endless supply of tears well in her eyes for what seemed like the thousandth time, she was so used to their regular moistening that she had long forgotten the stoic spirit that had forced her to refuse revealing any weakness. She was no longer the woman of six months ago, who had the brilliant glint her eyes and the kick-arse attitude to match. No, now she was meek, quiet and everything she despised about her sex. She had been proud and powerful, now she was reduced to a weeping vulnerable ninny. The fabric in her hands was light and dainty, beautiful and expensive, the best money could buy. That was what she valued now, the best. Her whole apartment, decked out in the newest update of every appliance you could think of. Her fridge was a monstrosity in itself, sleek and it almost held a certain prowess to it. She laughed, a fridge with prowess now that was something she never expected to own. Nothing inside the cavernous rooms was suitable to be out in the open when a small child was soon grace the expensive apartment. She knew she'd have to talk to her husband about child-proofing every square inch of their home, he'd hate it, but it was vital.

She never expected any of this; the apartment, the decline in her character, least of all the child steadily growing in her womb. Not that she didn't want it; she would've dealt with that well before now if that was the problem. No, the last thing she wanted to do was give up this child. It was the importance of the small being growing inside her that was what ate away at her every day. The girl or boy who was currently residing inside held the last hope for that spark of passion that had all but brunt out inside her.

The timer on the oven rang and she glanced at it absent mindedly. Knowing that if she didn't get up that dinner would turn to charcoal, something her _dear_ husband would not approve of, she heaved herself out of the chair and shuffled across the room to save the food. Once the temperature was lowered and the food was keeping warm, she waddled back to her seat, she sat there so often she was sure her body was imprinted in the cushions, and put up her feet again. Looking at the clock, she rolled her eyes. It would exactly fifteen minutes until her 'lover' would walk through the door.

A marriage of convenience, that's what he had called their union. A convenience, because of course, the child was not his. Oh no, she was no where near stupid enough to procreate with such a man, although now they were wed, she was sure she would have to produce an heir for the man some time after her bundle of joy was born. She'd shown up on his door step five months ago, one month pregnant at the time and not knowing where else to go. He'd rolled his eyes at her and groaned; he guessed he would marry her. The rest was history.

She had thought once or twice of turning up on the child's father's doorstep, but had never gained the courage. He would only turn her down, commitment not really being his strong point. Or, if he did say yes to her marriage proposal, then it would only be out of obligation and that would be worse then him shutting the door in her face. She loved him, everything about the man, from his sparkling blue eyes, to his crooked grin. But it was not only his toned body that she loved, she had fallen in love with his personality as well. Years ago, when she was younger and much more naïve, she had enlisted herself for the U.S army and in June, 1950, she'd been shipped off the far off land of Korea. They'd met there, in a MASH unit, he a doctor, she head nurse. At first, they'd hated each other; sworn enemies. Over time he had worn her down though, from strict and over bearing to a much more open person. Of course, she was still guarded around their other colleagues and friends, but around him she let herself break down. She leant on him and he leant right back. They'd had a tryst or two, a few flings here and there…well they had had to, she _was_ pregnant. He'd always been flirtatious with her, that much was undeniable, but committed? Far from it. So on July 27th, 1953, she bid him goodbye, not yet aware she pregnant, and relinquished him of all responsibility and consequently, their baby.

It was him that kept her up at night; he was the one who haunted her dreams. His baritone laugh and his dark blue eyes. She prayed her child would have his sense of humour, his ability to care, almost too much, and especially his ability to love. For he did love her, he just loved everyone else too. She couldn't have him though; her memories and their child would have to be enough.

Sighing, she watched as the clock ticked and heard the key tumble in the lock. "Right on time" she breathed and put her sewing aside. She opened her mouth to greet her husband, but the sneer on his face as he entered the room made her stop short. "Hi" he said sharply. She sat there, melancholy, taking in the lipstick stain on his shirt collar, the bruised and swollen lips. The flush in his cheeks was obvious and it meant only one thing, but she had long ago accepted this from him and she now expected no less. Smiling tightly at him, she walked over and kissed him on the lips, all the while imagining he was a certain raven haired doctor.

She sometimes wondered why she would settle for this again, for a man who would treat her like a wash cloth, something to use then throw aside. She wondered why she would not be willing to live a life like this with a man she loved, but would settle for it with a man she clearly did not. Maybe it would hurt more with the man she loved, _because_ she loved him. Smoothing out her husband's shirt, she mumbled, "Dinner's ready." He just nodded mutely and followed her into the kitchen. He stood behind her a moment, as she pulled the plates out of the oven, he was on the verge of asking her something, anything. Whose baby was it? Why did she choose him? He was always just about to ask her something, he just never plucked up enough courage. What did she expect from him? He was no match for the man who made her heart beat double time and set butterflies alive in her stomach, even though she hadn't seen him in six months. Her husband just gave up and turned on his heel, heading into the bedroom. Closing her eyes, she knew what this meant and she felt the bile rise in her throat. She waited, counted to twenty and just like clock work, it came. "Come to the bedroom, Mrs. Margaret Penobscot."

She hated herself for doing it again. For leaving herself at the mercy of this swine for a second time, but in all honesty, she felt she had no other choice.

Slowly, she removed her apron and began to unbutton her shirt as she walked towards the room. All the while, she forced herself to picture those laughing blue eyes before hers.

_A.N: What do you think? My first fanfic, please R&R. Oh, and I'm an Australian, so sorry for the 'kick-arse' instead of kick-ass' it's just how we spell it here. Now, go one, press the little purple button over to the left. I may expand on this, but I figured I'd wait and see what you guys thought first._


End file.
